


Namesake.

by captnalbatr0ss



Series: The Captain and his Quartermaster [10]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captnalbatr0ss/pseuds/captnalbatr0ss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Rafe discuss childhood and children.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Namesake.

**Author's Note:**

> For an Ask prompt on Tumblr— "Okay, so. Just imagine Sam and Rafe casually talking about kids and then suddenly they start bickering because Sam would give them horrible pirate names and Rafe would give them ridiculously fancy names, and eventually they come to an agreement. And then they freak out because they realise they just decided what their kids' names will be, and they hadn't ever even thought about having kids before."

* * *

They were in bed, casually intertwined. Rafe was sitting up, leaning against the headboard, glasses low on his nose as he looked down at his iPad, making a few changes to his calendar.

Sam was on his side, one arm slung across Rafe’s hips, his face pressed against Rafe’s ribs. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. Every now and then he nuzzled the soft skin there, but carefully, because Rafe’s ticklish.

Rafe noticed the memo in his calendar. He’d nearly forgotten. “Do you still have Cassie tomorrow?”

Sam smiled at the vibration of Rafe’s voice against his lips.

“Mm.” He opened one eye, glancing up at his smaller half. “I do. Nathan’s gonna drop her off at eight. I’ve got her ‘till three.”

“Hm.”

“You sure you don’t wanna tag along? I’m thinking about taking her to the zoo.”

Rafe made a noncommittal noise, and Sam knew it meant that the answer was still no, but that Rafe didn’t want to have to say it again.

They didn’t talk about it much, but Rafe tended to make himself scarce when Sam babysat Cassie.

“She likes you, y’know? You don’t have to worry about that.”

Rafe shifted, putting his iPad down and taking his glasses off. Setting them both aside on the nightstand. 

Sam felt the sigh build in Rafe, expanding his chest, escaping his lips. Soft.

“It’s not— That’s not why, Sam.”

Sam sat up, leaning against the headboard next to Rafe.

“A’right. Then what?” Sam turned his head to watch Rafe, searching his face.

“I don’t know how to be around kids.”

“Ah, that’s silly.” Sam nudged Rafe gently, one corner of his lips lifting in a playful grin.

“Sam.”

Sam heard the tone of Rafe’s voice, a slight change, and he watched Rafe carefully, reaching over to run his fingers through Rafe’s hair, trace the pad of his thumb along Rafe’s jaw.

“It’s… It makes me feel very—” Rafe furrowed his brow, searching for the proper word. “Aware. It makes me very aware of my childhood.”

“How d’ya mean?”

Rafe sighed, and it was heavier than usual—it originated from a place deep down; a place rarely visited.

“My childhood was—”

“Hey, no. I know I asked, but— You don’t gotta rehash any of that for me, baby.”

“No. Sam. Listen, it’s not… it’s not that.”

Sam frowned, nodded, but only after he sat up a bit straighter, pulling Rafe closer. Pleased when Rafe twisted just enough to drape his legs across Sam’s thighs, and when Sam lifted an arm, Rafe tucked himself under, resting his cheek against Sam’s chest.

“There are things that I never knew—that I never…missed. Because I didn’t know to. Being around kids now, I feel all of those things, the ones I never had. The ones that never hurt until now because I didn’t know.”

“What, like— what do you mean?”

“Well. Remember that surprise party?” Rafe closed his eyes, tried to focus on the steady sound of Sam’s heart, tried to let that ground him.

“You mean when Nathan rented her that pony?”

“Yes.”

“Sure I do. What, you never got a pony, eh?” Sam gave Rafe a quick squeeze, offering a small smile, hoping to keep the mood light.

Sam hated when Rafe got melancholy, and especially when it involved his past. It was easy for him to sink too deep, and Sam always had a hard time pulling him back up again. But the comment was a gamble, he knew. Sometimes light teasing or jokes, even just meant to keep Rafe’s head above water, ended up sounding dismissive.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Forget it.”

Rafe pulled away from Sam, turning off the light on their nightstand. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Sam.

“Hey—” Sam frowned, spooning against him in an instant. “Hey, I’m sorry. C’mon.”

Sam could practically feel Rafe shutting down, closing off—it had been a bad gamble. Sam was dangerously close to losing. “Please don’t go. Be here with me. I’m sorry.”

Rafe pursed his lips, but the feeling of Sam against him, around him, it pulled him back, held him there.

“I don’t remember them ever smiling at me.”

His voice was soft, almost timid. It wasn’t the voice Sam was used to hearing, but he did know it—recognize it. It broke his heart. He didn’t know what to say, so he just listened, pressing his face against the back of Rafe’s neck.

“I don’t remember surprise parties, or hugs, or playing games. Fun. It was never like that. And I didn’t know, not for a long time, that it wasn’t…normal. I didn’t even know to wish for those things, I couldn’t miss them because I didn’t know that I—”

He fell silent again, and when Sam tapped his shoulder—softly—he rolled, closing his eyes as Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead and tightened his grip until they were flush, chest to chest.

“I can’t relate to kids. It’s…foreign. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Hey. Baby, just because you have shitty parents, that doesn’t mean you can’t be better than that. You’re already better than that.”

“I don’t see it that way.” 

“I know, but you’re always too hard on yourself, sweetheart. C’mon, you mean you don’t think you’d maybe enjoy a kiddo if we had one? A little Bartholomew? Or Edward?” 

“Wait, what? Where the hell did you pull those names from?” 

“You know—Black Bart? Or Blackbeard?” Sam grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “Or maybe John. Little Long John Silver. C’mon, that’d be pretty great. We could get him a mini eye patch. And a parrot—you like parrots, don’t ya babe?” 

“Sam. That’s ridiculous. We are not naming our son after a pirate.”

“A'right, well gimme your suggestions then, smart guy.”

“It should be a family name. Not after my father, obviously. But I had a grandfather named Thurston. A great uncle Huxley. There’s also an Albrecht in my family tree. Beauregard.”

Sam made a face, shaking his head. “No. Nope. Veto. All terrible.”

“What? Mine are terrible, but your stupid pirate names aren’t?” Rafe frowned, eyebrows narrowing.

“At least my names don’t sound pompous.”

“Pompous? You’re joking. They’re classy, Samuel. No son of mine is going to have some common name, like—”

“Like ‘Sam’?” Sam gave Rafe a pointed look.

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean.”

“Well sure, you want a pompous—ah, I mean  _classy_  name. I’m surprised you didn’t throw out Rafe Junior.”

Rafe blinked, surprised. Sam saw a glint of anger in his eyes, a taste of indignation.

“Jesus, now you’re saying you think my name sounds pompous? Well, fuck you too, Sam.” Rafe scowled, glaring.

Sam frowned. “Okay. Okay, look, that came out—wrong. Let’s…back up a little bit here. There’s gotta be something we could agree on. Maybe a first name middle name compromise? Or maybe—Hey, what about Raleigh? That’s kinda—ah…fancy. Plus it’d be after Sir Walter Raleigh.”

“Well that’s—” Rafe paused, considered it again. “That’s…not bad. And I have a Rolly a few generations back. That’s close.”

“Yeah?” Sam grinned, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Yeah.” Rafe relaxed as Sam’s lips met his.

“Okay then. Raleigh it is.” Sam looked impossibly proud of himself for coming up with such a quick solution.

“Raleigh it is.” And then— “Wait.”

Sam raised a brow. “What?”

“Wait—” Rafe blinked, a strange sensation stinging his heart. Something like panic. He swallowed, and his throat felt too tight. 

Sam frowned, concerned. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Wait. I’m not… I mean, we can’t—I can’t—”

Sam’s expression softened, and he pulled Rafe as close as he could, rolling them gently until his full weight rested on top of the younger man. He claimed Rafe’s mouth again, kissed him deep, slow, until the felt the tension melt away.

“Hey. We just picked a name. It’s not a commitment or anything, relax baby. We’re just talkin’.”

Rafe took a deep breath, his eyes locked on Sam’s. “Right. Right, okay.”

Sam smiled, shifting to lean his weight on his elbow, freeing up one hand to push Rafe’s hair back, caress his face. 

“I love you so fucking much.”

The corner of Rafe’s mouth slowly rose, a sort of tired half smile. Sam knew these kind of conversations tended to take a lot out him—anything involving family, in general or his specifically. 

Sam closed his eyes, brushed his lips against Rafe’s throat, his jaw, then to the corner of his mouth, to that slight upturn. He sighed as he felt Rafe open up for him, a deep and unhurried meeting of lips, of tongues. 

The room was dark now, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight from their window. It was all inky shadows and a soft blue glow. Otherworldly.

Sam felt the heat of Rafe’s body beneath his, felt so close—intimate. He shivered when Rafe’s fingers drifted to his shoulders and down his back, settling low.

He felt the strength in Rafe’s arms, his hands, as he held on tight. He sensed a change in the urgency of Rafe’s kiss and Sam’s mind was a flood. Rafe, washing over him, and Sam, all too happy to get caught up in the rush.

When Rafe finally pulled back, when they both needed to catch their breath, Rafe’s eyes were as dark as the shadows in their bedroom, even when they caught the moonlight—a striking blend of blue and brown.

“I love you, Sam.”

And Sam knew that, although the hour was late, it would be a bit longer still before they would sleep.


End file.
